


Feel Everything

by PeculiarProjects



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, Dubious Consent, Everyone Is Gay, Gay, Gay Sex, Kissing, M/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Pollen, Temple of Procreation (Red vs. Blue), Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:33:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25962892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeculiarProjects/pseuds/PeculiarProjects
Summary: By the time anyone realized that something was wrong, it was too late.Tucker activates the Temple of Procreation and Simmons wants to avoid Grif until the sex frenzy blows over. Unfortunately, that does not happen.
Relationships: Dexter Grif/Dick Simmons
Comments: 15
Kudos: 120





	Feel Everything

**Author's Note:**

> So, I kind of hate myself. I wrote this a long time ago when I realized that there weren't too many Temple of Procreation fics, and then I just disappeared from life for a while. Now I'm back. I remembered this, finished it, and I'm still not sure if I regret it or not. It's literally just PWP. Almost 10,000 words of smut. Someone... h a l p. 
> 
> I really need to write something productive and socially acceptable sometime.

By the time anyone realized that something was wrong, it was too late. 

“I feel a little funny,” Caboose commented over dinner. The Reds and Blues were gathered at varying tables in close proximity, focused on digging in on their long overdue meals. They were all exhausted after resolving the neverending Chorus war and escaping the bullseyes that Felix and Locus painted on their backs. Despite coming as a relief, the casual act of sitting and eating together almost felt odd.

“Caboose, you probably just ate too much again. Do you need to take a break?” Tucker responded around his chewed food. He quickly scooped up more food and crammed it with the unswallowed bits. The others barely glanced in the dark blue soldier’s direction, unconcerned with the ominous comment. 

“No, it’s a different funny. Don’t you feel it too?” Caboose stared off in the distance, eyes glazed. His hand hovered in the air, food nearly falling off his fork. Simmons heard a soft sigh before he witnessed Wash managing to distract him by taking the fork himself and pretending like it was an airplane. 

Simmons couldn’t help but notice when Grif stood up, leaving the room so casually that no one else acknowledged him. The maroon soldier allowed his eyes to follow him, examining the tuft of brown hair resting on top of his head. Grif disappeared before Simmons could really think about it.

He realized that Caboose was absolutely right though: something was off. He felt strange. There seemed to be a building tension in his lower stomach, but not enough to bring discomfort or nausea. The sensation just was… there. Simmons couldn’t explain it, which concerned him since he almost always could provide an explanation for what was going on, even if it didn’t necessarily make sense. Someone always seemed to believe him anyway, despite how far-fetched his ideas could be. 

“Tucker, I have noticed that you avoid responding to Caboose each time he brings up the fact that he feels weird. Is there--”

“Stop reading so much into it. I just don’t think it’s something to be concerned about.” Tucker spat, purposefully avoiding eye contact with any of his teammates. He suddenly became incredibly interested in the strange mush they were served, focusing intently on the colorful meat-glop stacked on his utensil. 

Wash sat next to Tucker, and he evidently also noticed Tucker’s strange behavior. Rather than verbally agreeing with Simmons, Wash raised an eyebrow, giving Tucker his signature stare-down expression. Tucker displayed his discomfort by fidgeting, trying desperately to avoid eye contact despite the pointed direction. Caboose’s eyes trailed after Wash’s hand that still held some of his food. 

“Tucker, what did you do?” Wash’s tone dropped, voice slightly gruff. They sat in tense silence for only another five solid seconds before Tucker huffed.

“Well, I might have accidentally activated one of the temples…” he began, waving an arm in exaggeration. Simmons paused in his motion, surprised that just a single look from Wash was enough to get Tucker to spill. 

“Is it the temple I think it is?” Donut blurted out excitedly, pitch rising. He smiled wide, brushing his blonde hair out of his face. 

“No, you did not...” Carolina’s eyes grew wide, but her voice dropped like Wash’s did. Was that a Freelancer thing? 

“I did it to benefit all of us,” Tucker shrugged, taking a moment to look pointedly at Wash. The blond turned away quickly, hiding his face from the table. Simmons thought he saw a trace of a frown and a red tint over his freckles. There must have been another story behind that, if a single comment was enough to make Wash so disapprovingly enraged. Either way, they all seemed to silently recognize exactly which temple was activated.

Simmons stared down into his food as he blocked out the murmur of voices around him. His stomach churned, suddenly nauseous. Being affected, even controlled by some alien architecture was not something on his to-do list. Much of his life had spiraled out of control due to others’ actions, and so he became even more adamant about taking charge of as much as he possibly could. As unfortunate and petty as it sounded, his virginity was one of those things. It wasn’t that he couldn’t get a girl--well, that was only part of the issue--but he wanted to truly care about and trust the person he’d be with. Obviously he hadn’t encountered anyone who fulfilled the requirements of being trusted by Simmons and taking an interest in sleeping with him. The maroon soldier trusted his friends, but only to an extent. Thinking of losing his virginity to anyone sitting at this table was… disturbing under a whole new umbrella. He made a conscious effort to take deeper breaths, slow his heart rate, but looking at each face around him suddenly gave him anxiety and great discomfort. 

“When I was telling Santa stories, he told me the story of consent!” Caboose smiled, proud of himself for retaining the information.

“Oh, yeah, the Temple actually has a consent safeguard,” Simmons added softly, voice distant. Why didn’t he think of that before panicking? Simmons, the idiot. Then again, the temple could still affect each person differently, and he couldn’t completely put the bizarre images out of his head. He felt a little better, but the heaviness in his stomach didn’t leave him.

“I read some passages about the different temples, and the Temple of Procreation only increases hormones, rather than using actual mind control,” he explained.

“Mind control! Good golly Miss Molly, if I didn’t know better then I’d say the blues were behind this mishap!” Sarge interrupted. Simmons sighed and continued, ignoring the older man. 

“What I’m saying is, if you’re already attracted to someone, then that emotion will be amplified. The time frame after activation isn’t definitive, so this could last anywhere from a few hours to a few days, but it’s more likely to last around a day or so.”

As Simmons said this information, it both calmed him and caused him to panic--again. Typically, people would find their partner and a room and lock themselves in there for the next who knows how long until the sex frenzy is over. Simmons didn’t have anyone like that, but his main concern was where he could hide. He shared a room with Grif. Staying in his room with his friend sounded like a horrific idea, despite the chill that ran to Simmons’ groin thinking about Grif watching him as he stroked himself. No, no, that definitely couldn’t happen. Simmons needed to find a place to be alone, where he wouldn’t be bothered or interrupted. Somewhere with a lock was preferable. But logically, there was no place he could think of that he could stay in for the next day without at least one person having access.

Everyone looked at one another for a few moments, processing the facts, then several pairs of burning eyes turned towards the turquoise man. He was trying to appear distracted between twirling his long dreads and picking at his food. Despite focusing so much on the meal, it seemed as if Tucker hadn’t actually eaten anything. 

“I’m not sure whether I should be upset or thankful for this,” Sarge comments, sounding quite confused, yet thoughtful. 

“Honestly, I’m perfectly okay with this. In fact, I was actually looking forward to this!” Donut chimed in, cheery as ever. Simmons thought he detected the glint of a mischievous smirk, but it was gone before he could process it. 

“Do I get to talk to Santa more because of this? I really like his stories.” Caboose also seemed extremely calm about the situation, but then again he probably had no idea what was actually happening. Wash had finally stopped trying to feed his friend and simply stared at Tucker. 

“Yeah, I’m not really sure how I feel about this. How are we supposed to deal with shared rooms?” Wash suddenly appeared terrified, blue eyes wide. It seemed uncharacteristic of him to Simmons, seeing as the Freelancer always had a solution and exuded confidence all the time. 

Carolina laughed out of her nose. “I think you’ll manage, Wash. But I’m still not happy with you, Tucker. I’ll figure out a way later, but you will be punished for this.” 

“Ooh, maybe bust out the chains and whips. We can reenact Fifty Shades of Grey.” Tucker winked. Rather than continuing to shove his food around, he stood up, about to walk away. 

“If anyone needs me then, I’ll be in my room.” Tucker made his way to move, and most of the other soldiers at the tables surrounding started chatting amongst themselves again, ignoring Tucker’s attempt at an escape of ridicule. Wash stopped him though, holding onto his upper arm to keep him in place. 

“Tucker, that’s ridiculous.” 

“Ridiculous that I have a line of ladies waiting for me outside of our door? Of course not. You’ll have to get on my level, Wash.” Tucker’s lips quirked in amusement, his fantasies allowing him to get ahead of himself. 

“Tucker, we share a room.” Wash’s voice dropped, reiterating both a deadly tone and slight horror. Simmons found their eye contact to be unusually strong, intense beyond what he could comprehend. He figured that Wash probably didn’t want to witness his roomie getting it on with fellow soldiers. Wash presented himself as an uptight enough person that Simmons was surprised that Wash hadn’t murdered Tucker yet for his consistently indecent comments. 

“Yeah baby, and? Invite someone over and we can all get in on the action.” Wash visibly stiffened at the nickname. And the suggestion. Simmons could see that, even from Wash’s back. Without armor, his muscles were clearly defined. 

“No, Tucker, seriously. That’s our room. I can’t… I don’t--” Did he realize how many times he was saying Tucker’s name?

“Don’t worry, Wash, I’m sure there’s someone on this base that would love to get fucked by you. Or fuck you? If that’s your kind of thing.” Tucker shrugged, and Wash was unresponsive enough to let go of Tucker’s arm. Without another word, he practically sauntered away. 

Not even a moment later, Wash glanced at everyone else at the table. Most of their friends--or enemies, depending on how you looked at it--weren’t even paying attention to this encounter. They were rambunctious and complaining with wide eyes, contemplating what would happen. Wash made eye-contact with Simmons and quietly excused himself. He then jumped up from his seat, jogging with easy practice after Tucker who had moved quickly. He must have been eager for some action, if there even was any waiting for him back at his room. 

Simmons raised an eyebrow as he watched the two blues leave. Since Tucker activated the temple, he wouldn’t be affected. Did he realize that? Simmons doubted it, but then again, Tucker always joked about “having the stamina of a God,” so maybe everyone else would just feel how Tucker feels anyway: horny and desperate. 

Not long afterward, the others began to leave the table, cracking jokes about how many people they could knock up and making bets on how many children Tucker would need to support. 

It wasn’t until Simmons finally stood up that he realized the Temple’s technology was more effective than he initially thought. He sucked in his breath sharply, biting harshly on his lip to prevent any sound from coming out. 

Simmons quickly removed himself from the cafeteria, trying to find a place to hide. He already scratched out his room as a possibility. He wasn’t even going to stop there to tell Grif what was going on, because he didn’t know what would happen. He had already begun to have strange thoughts that evidently weren’t his, but at the same time were? An underlying confession that was known all along was finally revealing itself to Simmons. He would find somewhere else, anywhere else secluded where he could think about what he wanted without consequences. What--or who that would be, he didn’t want to think about, because each time he did, a flash of a dark-skinned man appeared in his head. White patches of skin that used to be his own, dark-brown eyes he could drown in…

Focus, focus. He tried to redirect his thoughts to the task at hand: finding a place where he could be alone and satiate this sudden burning desire tenting in his armor undersuit. 

He didn’t know where he was going, and the aimlessness of it all made Simmons even more anxious than before. All he needed to know was to find an isolated location where he could be alone for a little bit. Maybe for the next day or so, conveniently separating him from any other living being during the Temple of Procreation’s activation period. He figured that if he allowed Grif to take over their shared room and he hid somewhere else, awkward situations could be avoided, right? 

Simmons quickly realized as he wandered up and down the halls that it was becoming increasingly more difficult to walk. Even the slight friction created between his legs sent shock waves through his body. Stopping to lean against a wall, he almost reached down to soothe the nearly painful hardness, but forced himself to keep his hands at his sides. 

“Just wait until you’re alone,” he whispered to himself. As if verbally scolding himself would eradicate the mysterious boner. 

He sucked his breath in, holding it as he awkwardly hobbled down the hallway. He tried shuffling to move faster, desperately scoping out any potential hiding places. Simmons finally managed to get around the corner, huffing heavily. His body practically itched with energy, and it took all of his strength to prevent himself from doing anything in the hallway out in the open. 

There lay a row of doors before him, which Simmons figured belonged to some of the other Chorus natives. He began yanking harshly on each door knob, focusing on moving from glistening handle to handle. Although somewhere in the back of his mind he knew this was rude, focusing on one objective made it slightly better. Slightly.

Of course, all of them were locked. Simmons cursed aloud. Why did he even think that any of these people would leave their quarters available with the entire war they’ve dealt with, not to mention knowing that the goddamn Temple of fucking Procreation was activated?

That’s when Simmons noticed one door propped open with some kind of cardboard box. The room must have been a closet of some kind, since the door was different from the others and in between rooms, leaving only a space large enough for a storage closet. Before he could wonder why it was propped open, he yanked on the door handle, kicking the box away from him and he slammed the door. His breathing was still harsh, but the relief in his chest was evident. 

Simmons leaned his head against the cool metal of the door for a moment, allowing the freezing cold to mingle with his intense perspiration. He reached down to palm himself, but froze when he heard, “What the fuck man?”

Simmons’ body became so tense and his erection bigger at the gruff voice. Of all the people he’d run into, did it really need to be him?

“Shit,” he said under his breath, clenching his fists viciously as he turned around. His nails bit into his palms more when he made eye contact with Grif. 

The typically orange soldier was out of his armored suit at the moment, as everyone else had been. Simmons himself only wore his black undersuit, but at least he wore that. Before him stood a nearly-naked Grif, bare chest exposed but boxers still on. Simmons nearly choked when he saw his friend so revealed. Although they had been friends for a long time now, Simmons had never seen so much of the darker-skinned man before. During Grif’s self-proclaimed free-time, he typically wore at least pants or shorts over his boxers. Simmons hated the immediate effect the sight had on him. He needed to consciously stop himself from grabbing at the aching pain distracting him. But it would be even better if Grif did that for him… The thought shocked him, throwing him off guard. No, he needed to stop himself. He needed to get away. 

“Sorry, Grif, I’ll leave,” Simmons said quickly as he turned away. He didn’t even try to make some excuse, he was so desperate to get away from that claustrophobic room, that entire desolate hallway, that beautiful man.

Simmons didn’t wait for a response and turned away to push on the handle. He pressed his hand down. Then a little farther. Nothing happened: the handle was locked in place. He pushed again, the metal cutting into his hand. He pulled up experimentally, resulting in the same locked door.

“No no no no no no no...” The words tumbled out of his mouth, repetition irrelevant because he was living a nightmare. This meant that he was trapped in an incredibly small closet with the one person he had attempted to avoid. He jiggled the door knob more violently this time, completely aware that it wouldn’t work, yet trying anyway.

“God dammit, Simmons.” Grif’s voice was so close, and Simmons could feel the breath on his neck. It was warm, skirting across Simmons’ suddenly clammy and goosebumped pale skin. In fact, Grif’s entire body radiated heat behind the ginger. He tried to avoid thoughts of sinking his weight into the cushion of a body, arms encircling his chest and waist, hands dipping down slowly…

Simmons cried out in frustration, sexual and otherwise.

“Why the hell did you leave the door propped open? I wouldn’t have come in here if it hadn’t been propped open!” Simmons’ voice cracked a little. He tried to displace the blame so it wasn’t his fault, even though he knew it clearly was.

“I left it open so I could get the fuck out of here when all of this stupid Temple shit blew over!” Grif raised his arms in frustration, sighing as he turned away from his friend. “I heard someone in the hallway say that Tucker was bragging about activating that alien temple or whatever, so I decided to hide in here where I’d be alone and food would be plenty.”

Sure enough, behind Grif, large cardboard boxes were stacked. One was ripped open, revealing cans of rations. His friend turned back, raising an eyebrow and sighing. 

Simmons nearly gasped when he saw his muscle ripple from the movement, suddenly willing away the desire to suck on the exposed flesh in front of him. Simmons had to take a few shuddering breaths to bring his attention back to Grif’s words instead of his body. So, Grif had the same idea as Simmons, unfortunately landing them in the same place. And, of course, Simmons had fucked up his chance at keeping the distance between them by literally locking them together during a sex frenzy. 

The ginger faced the door again, mentally willing it to magically fall open and save him from this horribly embarrassing situation. His breathing was ragged again. He banged on the door a few times, calling out, “Help! We’re stuck in here!” He wasn’t surprised when there was no immediate answer. They were locked in a closet in a back hallway where most don’t wander, during a time when everyone is distracted by their suddenly increased libidos. 

“I guess at least I didn’t get stuck with Donut,” Grif muttered.

The room seemed to cut in size. Grif appeared so close, and now Simmons knew that there was no escaping the close proximity. Simmons’ body also burned, pushing him to the edge of his self-restraint. He wanted to at least have the decency to control his actions through sheer will, but his body reacted much differently than he wanted it to.

“Simmons, what do we do? Can’t you pick the lock?” Grif’s words landed hotly on Simmons’ neck again, and a moan escaped his lips before he could stop it. Simmons could barely hold himself up on his wobbly legs at this point, so he leaned his weight backward into the sturdy build. His head dropped onto Grif’s shoulder, and the feel of their skin pressing together squeezed another moan from Simmons. He wasn’t even sure what his friend had said.

Without warning, Grif’s hands clutched at Simmons’ hips, fingertips dipping towards his center. Simmons’ eyes rolled into the back of his head, savoring the temporary pleasure overtaking his thoughts. Grif’s hands never stopped their movement though, rubbing gentle circles into Simmons’ oversensitive skin, forcing his breath to hitch.

“I’m sorry, Simmons, I can’t stop myself.” Part of him sounded terrified, but Simmons honed in on the lusty undertone in the purred words. Simmons could feel Grif press into him, grinding against the swell of his ass. Simmons’ cock rubbed against the locked door in front of him while his whole backside was in contact with Grif’s body. He couldn’t respond intelligibly, only gasp out various sounds. The hands clinging to Simmons gripped harder when Grif leaned forward to suck mercilessly on Simmons’ neck. 

The soldier couldn’t believe his immediate reaction. He tilted his head to give Grif’s lips easier access. He ground back into the hips, attempting to make the connection last longer. He relished in the solid contact on his body, mewling more sounds. Simmons couldn’t seem to shut himself up. He needed to stop. This was all wrong, all horribly wrong, but he couldn’t remember why. The action itself felt so right, and his nearly-painful discomfort since the activation of the Temple became a dull, yet pleasant throbbing in his cock. Why would he try to stop this?

Once Simmons had gotten to the point that being squished between Grif and the door wasn’t enough, he pushed away from the metal and turned in Grif’s grasp. Their bodies became flush without hesitation. Simmons’ hands squeezed shoulders, and Grif continued to hold his friend by the hips. Grif breathed heavily. There was no space between them other than the small gap between their lips. 

“This is, uh, fucking weird,” Grif pointed out, but his voice came out soft. A twinge went straight to Simmons’ groin, and he literally shuddered from pleasure in Grif’s arms.

“Um, yeah,” Simmons agreed, trying to pretend like he didn’t have a raging boner pressed against his friend’s equally intense boner. Now that they were facing each other, Simmons was absolutely certain that his face reddened to match his hair. He stared down to avoid looking into Grif’s brown eyes, but looked directly at how their hips connected perfectly. 

Simmons knew he should say something, but instead gasped when Grif rolled his hips forward. He had pulled Simmons closer by the hips too, dragging out the delicious friction between the two of them. 

“Grif!” Simmons blurted his name, head lolling to the side. He allowed Grif to jossle him around, and he suddenly found his back pressed against the wall, legs in the air. His thighs were grasped harshly, tightly enough to leave bruises. His feet dangled lazily outside of Grif’s torso.

And then they were kissing. They were kissing. Sloppily at first, desperate and driven with lust. Simmons didn’t know how to respond at first because he was distracted by the fact that he was being held with firm hands and his groin flamed hot. 

Grif spread Simmons’ lips with his own, his tongue diving into his mouth. They shared saliva and hot breath and Simmons groaned again. Despite Simmons’ limited ability to move, he still attempted to shove his hips forward to create contact with Grif’s body. He clung tightly to Grif’s shoulders, quickly moving one hand to clutch the back of the darker man’s neck. The angle immediately deepened their kiss, and both of them made simultaneous sounds of pleasure. Grif gently toyed with the ginger’s lower lip, tugging at it with his teeth and taking the opportunity to press his tongue against Simmons’. Simmons didn’t know how to react--this never had been his kind of thing, but maybe it would be now he decided as he shivered in warm arms. Grif’s heat seeped into Simmons’ body, but his burning flesh demanded they be even closer.

Grif pulled away multiple times, but Simmons leaned forward to chase the feeling. The more he kissed Grif, the more frantic Simmons suddenly felt. He dragged his friend’s shoulders towards him, pushing their chests close. He couldn’t decide between pulling on Grif’s neck or arms, but he wanted to touch him everywhere. 

“Simmons… Simmons…” Each time he pulled away, he said the other’s name. Eventually, he stopped Simmons from moving, holding his face still with both hands. In order to keep him still in the air, Grif’s body pushed him firmly into the door behind him. Simmons whined audibly, shocking them both. 

“Simmons, we should try to stop,” Grif said, breathless. His hands moved back to Simmons’ ass, body continuing to hold the man against the wall though, hips connected. He made no effort to move away. 

Simmons paused for a moment, realizing that Grif said the words he had been thinking all along. We should stop, we should stop. But why? This felt so wrong and right and Simmons was conflicted and his self-control disintegrated. And once he realized the fact that he had let himself run wild for that moment, he opened his eyes wide. He always was the responsible one. The refined one. This wasn’t like him.

“But how…?” was his response, and his voice was so small and timid, it didn’t sound as if the words came from him. 

“I really don’t know. I can.. Uh, go in that corner, and you stay in this corner, and we try to ignore one another?” Grif’s voice was slow and low, turning Simmons on despite what he said. His face inched towards Simmons as he spoke.

“Grif, you know that’s not going to work. This closet is already incredibly small. You’re also holding me against this door.” Simmons shifted his hips as if to make a point, but the motion forced a groan out of both men. 

“Ah, shit--” Grif couldn’t say much more. He squeezed Simmons’ ass hard, sending ripples of pleasure through him. His feet touched the floor though, and the harsh pressure diminished. Despite finally standing on his own, Simmons still felt touches all over his body. Grif continued to gently cup his ass though, obviously resisting the urge to yank him towards his own hips.

After about a minute of catching their breaths, Grif finally released Simmons. Instead of being relieved though, Simmons’ body craved the harsh touching, the warm contact. Grif’s hand went immediately to his own crotch, rubbing himself through the undersuit. His head tilted back in a silent moan, eyes closed. Simmons barely registered the fact that he mirrored Grif’s actions, touching himself in a desperate attempt to soothe the throbbing. The material got in the way though, and Simmons felt on fire with need.

He ripped his bodysuit off as quickly as he could, hearing Grif’s distant protests. Simmons lifted his weeping cock and began pumping it, squeezing to increase the friction. He heard Grif moan, and somehow remembered that, yes, stripping naked in front of another man with lust-filled eyes was probably not a good idea, and yes, jacking off also in front of the same man was probably not a good idea. He did so anyway, and barely noticed Grif’s movement in front of him. 

Before Simmons could say anything, to agree with what Grif said and try to back away, before he could moan a name or make a sound, Grif moved into the only remaining space between them. He had also quickly shed his own bodysuit, showing off his contrasting skin with the patches of pale white. He held both of their painfully hard cocks in one hand. Simmons yelped at the unexpected touch. Stroking quickly, Simmons practically fell into Grif, bucking his hips as much as he could into Grif’s callused hands. He didn’t know how they could possibly be callused, considering that he never seemed to do any work, but it made for a beautiful texture to rub over his dick. 

With Grif’s chest exposed, Simmons was able to tweak his nipples with both hands. His eyes were barely open as they found a rhythm and they swayed from the sharp motion of Grif’s hand. They pushed and pulled against one another, never allowing the moaning to stop. Simmons was especially vocal, as he had never felt such bliss. 

Simmons didn’t know how, but Grif increased his speed even more. Simmons tried to compensate for the immense pleasure Grif gave him. He stretched his fingers over his chest, brushing over curly hair and twisting his nipples until Grif cried out. 

“Grif, Grif, Grif,” the name spilled from his mouth. It was the most beautiful sound he could hear, other than the soft moans that came from Grif.

The movement was slick, the feeling of both Grif’s hand and cock against his own incredible. Simmons thrusted in time to Grif. His palms were pressed flat against skin, but they made their way to Grif’s face. Simmons wrapped his hands behind Grif’s neck, pulling him in close. Their lips were on one another’s instantly.

Simmons realized that he kept trying to say Grif’s name into his mouth, making him blush a little, but not for long because the growing tightness in his stomach finally released, and white spattered over their stomachs. 

Grif sighed heavily as Simmons panted, clutching his friend desperately. 

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Grif said in between breaths.

Simmons knew there was something wrong from his tone, but didn't care at the moment. His head was cloudy, consumed with bliss. He thrust again, riding out his orgasm against the palm that still held him. When Grif finally did let go, he stepped away, and Simmons practically collapsed onto the floor in exhaustion.

Grif fell heavily to the floor, catching himself with his hands behind him. 

“Simmons, try the door again,” he huffed, pointing with a feeble arm.

Simmons didn’t respond right away. He leaned against the door, eyes still rolling back in his head. The ghost of warm hands over his body wouldn’t allow him to think about anything else. He turned, still sitting on the floor, and pounded on the metal with a fist. “Somebody! Anybody!” Simmons called out weakly. 

“I meant try the doorknob, dumbass.” Grif rolled his eyes, kneeling on the stone floor. 

Simmons yanked on the handle again. Still locked. What had they expected? He wished they had gotten locked in a comfier location, but then reprimanded himself for even considering doing this with Grif in any other scenario. He had tried to get away from Grif because he didn’t want to ruin their current relationship. Although Grif tended to insult Simmons and call him a kiss-ass, they both had a mutual understanding of loyalty and friendship. What they had wasn’t perfect, but Simmons appreciated Grif’s presence. 

Despite just coming down from his orgasmic high, he realized that his cock was still hard, leaking more than it should. He glanced at Grif, noticing with horror that his friend had the same situation. The Temple was making them this way, but there was no avoiding the need and desire that filled them both. 

Simmons groaned a little, and he held himself. It didn’t feel the same as when Grif held him though. He squeezed harder, trying to match the pressure from before. 

“Stop making that sound, Simmons,” Grif practically whimpered. Simmons was used to hearing that voice: the whining and pleading for things to finally go his way of laziness, but Simmons wasn’t used to the note of desperation. Simmons also hadn’t realized he was making so much noise, but then again, the room didn’t leave much to the imagination for both sights and sounds. 

Simmons clenched his teeth firmly, swallowing the sounds that bubbled from his throat, but the noises still squeaked out. Grif crawled over to Simmons, their heads at the same level. He cupped Simmons’ cheek with a hand, suddenly pressing their lips together. Although tingles coursed through his whole body, Simmons’ immediately went silent. Grif sucked Simmons’ lower lip and licked into his mouth and held his head still with a steady hand, even though Simmons was frozen in a trance. 

“I told you to be quiet,” Grif whispered, kissing Simmons long and slow before finally pulling away, an oddly shocked look on both of their faces.

“Simmons, slap me,” Grif demanded, eyes wide. 

“What, you’re--you’re into that kind of thing?” Simmons laughed a little, but a part of him was absolutely terrified. If Grif was going to get all kinky, Simmons wouldn’t lead. As he consistently reminded himself, he unfortunately had absolutely no experience whatsoever--at least prior to this situation. And he was pretty sure violence wasn’t a turn on for him anyway. 

“No, what? No, I mean if you don’t want me to keep going, don’t let me. Because I can’t control myself anymore. I can’t control myself around you, as fucking cliche as that sounds.” He took a moment to lean back, pressing on the bridge of his nose as if trying to hold a headache in. His long, curly hair covered his closed eyes and he blew out a warm breath of air, still close enough to Simmons for him to feel it. Simmons was too shocked by the confession to respond, imagining his friend with feelings fit for a rom-com movie. 

“I am going to end up literally fucking you on this closet floor if you don’t stop me, and I’m not sure if that’s how you want to lose your virginity.” Grif raised his voice and gestured towards the dark closet they sat in, shaking his head slightly as if he couldn’t believe where they were. Couldn’t believe what he said. 

“Uh, excuse me, who says I still have my virginity?” Simmons spluttered, but pleasure rocketed through his body at Grif’s words. Images filled his mind and he blushed a hot pink, averting his eyes despite his defensive tone. 

“Simmons, it’s pretty damn obvious. And even if you have been with a girl before, I sincerely doubt you’ve been with a guy.”

“And you have?” Simmons interrupted, about to burst out with laughter. Oh, this information would make for some great blackmail. If they ever got out this fucking closet. 

“Either way, you’ll lose your butt virginity, so rip up that V-card buddy.”

“Wow, very sexy. Incredible way with words, Grif.” Simmons rolled his eyes, but he realized he never actually responded to Grif’s attempt to stop himself. He even said: he couldn’t control himself. This was the last straw and if Simmons didn’t stop him, he would be sleeping with someone for the first time. With his best friend of all people too. 

“It’s fine.”

“What? ‘It’s fine’? What is that supposed to mean?” Grif seemed baffled.

“It means what it sounds like! It’s fine. We’re both under the influence of the Temple, if you forgot, and it’s not like I can just say no and then avoid you. We’ll have to... make do.” 

He knew his observation sounded a little harsh. It was very Simmons-like to look at the logical angle of their situation. It was true that they were locked in a closet together and accepting it now would avoid the awkward and non-consensual confrontations. Then again, Simmons had noticed the tingles that rushed through his body more and more whenever he was around Grif, even before the Temple was activated. Maybe it was just sheer luck, or maybe it was fate that they ended up spending this frenzy together. Simmons didn’t think he’d be comfortable giving up his virginity up to anyone else. At least not so willingly. He’d never admit this aloud though, of course. 

Grif gave an audible sigh of relief. Simmons knew he would always trust Grif, despite evidence of the past screaming otherwise, but he never knew what Grif was thinking. Hopefully this wouldn’t make things weird for them. 

Grif climbed over Simmons again, and he instinctually stiffened, resting his head on the cold floor. It felt different now. Grif moved almost… tenderly. He guessed that he assumed Grif would pounce as soon as he said yes, but he had done the opposite. His movements slowed, purposeful in his touches. 

Grif held his face again, stroking softly with his thumb. Simmons’ lips parted automatically, and their kisses were slow and deep. Grif slowly lowered his body on top of Simmons’, connecting their burning skin section by section. Simmons felt Grif’s erection pressed against his body, slowly sliding up as Grif moved closer. Then they were connected tightly at the hips, and Simmons sighed as he jerked up, eyes falling closed. 

Simmons was so content in that moment despite the raging boner poked out between their bodies. He relaxed as his face was held in strong hands, mouth parted by another’s. The weight over him also served as a comfort, holding him down but in a reassuring way.

He seemed so lost in his thoughts that he jumped a little when he felt a finger slowly trace around his exposed hole. A high squeak escaped, expressing his discomfort. 

“Shh, hey, relax. You can trust me.” And Simmons knew that he could trust him, and so he focused on breathing, since he temporarily forgot a moment before. Grif continued to circle a part of him that he never thought would be touched by someone else. He slowly relaxed, allowing tension to slide from his muscles while this gorgeous, dark man massaged at his most sensitive part. Simmons sighed, his eyes falling shut, but he suddenly stiffened a little again when a shudder passed through his entire body. The tingle was pleasant, but unexpected and unfamiliar. 

Grif dragged his other palm up Simmons’ side slowly, starting from the hip, which caused him to shake again. The man’s warmth seeped into the ginger’s shivering and goosebump-covered body, and he moaned just from the slow attention.

“Wow, you’re already really into this and I haven’t even put my finger in all the way,” Grif commented, puffing a half-hearted laugh. 

Simmons dragged his eyes open in order to glare at him, but before he could say anything, he felt Grif’s fingers push farther, spreading him wider. Simmons gasped, but held still as much as he could. For some reason he felt the urge to squirm--the sensation was just so odd, but not necessarily unpleasant. He couldn’t decide between keeping his eyes wide or shutting them to feel Grif’s touches more. He then saw Grif’s brown eyes, the lust in his expression but yet… the tenderness? The kindness apparent in his friend’s face? Simmons was so caught off guard, but he was comforted. 

The finger pressed in farther at a slow pace, squeezed tightly. Simmons gasped again, the sound turning into a low groan. 

“Oh, god, Simmons, those noises are so hot. Give me more of that.” Grif sounded on the verge of getting off despite giving all of his attention to Simmons. Encouraged, the ginger allowed himself to become even more vocal than before. 

Grif’s unoccupied hand couldn’t seem to stay still. He clutched Simmons’ hip, brushed over his stomach, his skin, up his arm and to his neck. The other hand... well, Simmons was most certainly overwhelmed with the sensations he was experiencing. Grif began to push his finger harder against the tight ring of muscle, and Simmons couldn’t help but cry out as Grif pushed inside. 

Grif stretched Simmons from the inside out, the pull vaguely painful, but glorious in its fullness. It was only a finger, but it was Grif’s finger. For some reason, that thought made what they were doing all the more erotic. He was trusting his body to the person who knew him best. Simmons was now vulnerable in the best ways because his brain had finally shut off, preoccupied with the sensations of Grif pushing and pulling slowly, stretching his untouched hole and eventually adding two, three fingers. He never realized how much he needed this. 

“Simmons, you’re so tight.” Grif was breathless, as if fingering Simmons was enough to make him cum again. Maybe it was.

“Hm, I wonder why,” Simmons said sarcastically, but moaned when Grif thrust his fingers in hard in retaliation. Although Simmons had masturbated plenty, he had never played with anything other than his dick. He regretted not doing so earlier--he could have been experiencing this stark pleasure all along. Despite the inexperience though, he was slick and the many fingers slid easier than he thought they would. Perhaps that was a perk of the Temple’s effects. 

“I can’t--I can’t wait anymore.” Grif practically ripped his fingers out of the other man, and Simmons almost cried from the separation, lack of warmth, and dulled tingly pleasure. He didn’t have to mourn the loss for long though. Almost immediately, Grif had lined up with Simmons. Just the slight brush of the other man’s cock against him was so much more than the fingers and Simmons began babbling and moaning, begging for Grif to move. 

He wasted no time and slammed into Simmons’ body, making him slide a little on the floor. Simmons was fairly certain that in normal circumstances, he probably would have needed a little more prep or a slower start, but these were not normal circumstances.

Grif grasped desperately at Simmons’ hips, holding them bruisingly tight. If Simmons had known that his friend could be this powerful, he would have made him do more work back on base. They were close enough to the closet door that Simmons reached up and pressed his palms flat on the cool metal. He used the wall as leverage to push against Grif more fully, joining Grif in his thrusts. 

The pleasure wasn’t limited to just one area. His whole body radiated with the uncontrollable high that made his eyes roll into the back of his head. Simmons’ body gripped Grif’s tightly, making the drag of his cock impossible to ignore. All he could think was “deeper, more!” and when Grif abided, he realized his supposedly silent thoughts were actually being screamed into garbled moaning. 

Simmons didn’t think the feeling could get any better, but somehow it did. He wasn’t sure who shifted, but suddenly, his legs were resting on Grif’s shoulders. The angle change was unexpected but so much more fulfilling, allowing them to meet each other’s thrusts perfectly. 

The ginger’s head swam. He couldn’t see anything, just feel. He felt Grif’s hot breath and his crushing grip on his body to hold him in place. He felt Grif’s very real cock inside of him, stretching him, owning him. He felt soft words of endearment and lust escape Grif’s mouth, vibrating in Simmons’ chest as if they were his own. He felt it all and he couldn’t feel enough, and then he was cumming. His body pulsed and thrummed and he was extremely vocal.

“Simmons, yes--” Grif breathed the name, reveling in the tightness that was this beautiful man, squeezing his cock like they were one. They fit together perfectly, and they both knew that they had been waiting for this for a long time. Simmons felt and felt and felt, nearly cumming again as he felt Grif’s orgasm fill him. The pleasure seemed to last for a long time, but he wasn’t complaining. 

When Simmons couldn’t make any more noise because he had exhausted his vocal chords, he basked in the noises that Grif made. The room filled with heavy breathing and primal sounds of need. Although Simmons was more fulfilled than he ever has been before, for some reason, his erection didn’t flag after being spent. When he came back from cloud 9, he realized that Grif was still hard inside of him. 

Grif gently pulled out and ungracefully dropped to the ground, panting. Grif didn’t even try to touch himself, he just lay there, cock sticking straight up in the air. Simmons climbed over his legs, holding his thighs. Grif didn’t try to stop him this time. Didn’t try to keep Simmons on one side of the closet. They both knew very well how strong the Temple’s power was. If they kept denying their increased physical need, it wouldn’t matter. The confrontations would continue as long as they were stuck in this closet. Simmons accepted this mentally: he would deal with the emotional side later, when his head wasn’t consumed by lust. 

Grif granted him so much pleasure and he wanted to return the favor. Simmons stroked his hands over the white patches of skin that used to be his own. He was a part of Grif now; and with that thought, Simmons took almost all of Grif’s cock into his mouth, eliciting a long groan from Grif. 

Simmons had never given a blow job before. The situation had never come up, and he didn’t think he would like it anyway, but he now realized it wasn’t one-sided. He tried to swirl his tongue, licking the underside of Grif and sucking. Grif bucked up into Simmons mouth, causing him to gag a little. Grif seemed to pull back immediately, not missing his friend’s struggle. The maroon soldier slowly pulled off of Grif, sucking his cock back into his mouth. 

“Ohh, yes,” Grif whispered, which spurred Simmons on. He continued to lick his way up his cock, stuffing his mouth with as much as he could. The sounds that Grif made were beautiful. Simmons would be completely satisfied with giving blow jobs forevermore, if that meant being able to control all of the sounds Grif made. His own cock distracted him though. He would have been satisfied giving a blow job, but the Temple affected him too. He rutted against Grif’s calf as he bounced his head up and down, spreading drying cum over Grif’s body. 

“Wait, stop.” Grif gasped, and Simmons froze. Why was it that Simmons couldn’t seem to control himself, but Grif could?

“Turn around,” he said, which was definitely not what Simmons was expecting.

“What?” he blurted, the word blowing hot air on to Grif’s cock. 

“I said turn around,” Grif repeated, as if the meaning was obvious. Simmons turned slowly, straddling his chest. He frowned, confused by what was happening. Was he seriously so inexperienced that Simmons’ blowjob was that bad?

He squeaked when Grif pulled roughly on his hips, tugging his whole body so he hovered over his face.

“‘Kay, now go,” Grif spoke matter-of-factly. Simmons didn’t have time to register what his friend said before Grif gripped Simmons’ cock at the base, stroking down to the tip and shoving it into his mouth. Simmons gasped, shocked, surprised, but also radiating with undeniable pleasure. He thrust down a few times before remembering that he didn’t like when Grif did that, and he wasn’t going to be a hypocrite. Now he completely understood why Grif had done so earlier.

He resisted the urge to fill Grif’s mouth down to his throat and grasped Grif’s hard-on, fumbling a little. He bobbed his head immediately, slurping as he went. They spoke no words or names to one another, as they obviously couldn’t. The two only communicated through moans and groans and hums that sent shivers through their bodies.

Simmons still had no idea what he was doing, especially because he now had to concentrate on pleasuring Grif at the same time as Grif’s tongue doing the same. He felt the warmth surround him, sucked to the back of Grif’s throat. 

He found himself continually distracted, Grif’s slight thrusts serving as a reminder when his movements slowed. Simmons allowed his eyes to close, relishing in the moment. While his mouth was full, tongue swirling in slight circles, he could feel the moist warmth surrounding his own cock. Grif seemed oddly experienced in this--that, or Simmons was more inexperienced than he realized. He had known pleasure, but only self-pleasure. Nothing like this. The change in angle and warmth and speed had Simmons cumming in no time, moaning around Grif. The wild licking turned into sucking, and the overstimulation forced more noises out of his mouth. When he heard how his friend responded to the vibrations, he made the sound again, bobbing his heading up and down more vigorously than before. 

Rather than pulling off of Simmons, Grif continued sucking, but slowing the pace significantly. He then focused his attention on thrusting up into Simmons’ mouth. Simmons knew this was coming, so he wasn’t as surprised. He hovered in the same spot for the most part, other than when he pulled back just enough to avoid gagging. 

“Ohh, Simmons,” Grif accidentally let out, lips still in contact with the tip of Simmons’ softening dick.

Simmons didn’t know how to do this; he had never given a blowjob before, but it seemed like Grif was enjoying whatever he was doing. Since his gag reflex was pretty weak, he tried to compensate by sucking harder. 

“Oh!” Grif lurched forward, brushing Simmons’ sensitive cock against his lips again and the shock made Simmons’ mouth close even more. Grif could barely blurt out a warning before white was pulsing into Simmons’ mouth. In theory, he knew that he should have tried to swallow and let Grif finish his orgasm, but he was caught off guard and slipped off of the other man. White dripped off of Simmons’ face and began to cool on their hot skin. 

Simmons could hear Grif panting, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do next. Grif had been leading for most of the time, but he seemed pretty whipped now. 

The ginger reached forward, circling his fingers around Grif’s now slick cock and preparing to move. 

“Don’t,” Grif choked out, still coming down from his orgasmic high. Simmons pulled away, unsure what to expect. Did Grif find what they did so repulsive that he didn’t want Simmons touching him, even in the midst of a sex frenzy? 

“Aren’t you overstimulated?” Grif panted, head flat on the floor and chest heaving.

Simmons hesitated, looking down at himself. He was hard again, but not quite as much as before. He shrugged, wondering which of them had the normal rebound.

“God, you must have crazy stamina.” 

“Maybe if you actually did the training we made the recruits do, you’d be in better shape for situations such as this.” Simmons smirked, a little proud of himself for being able to bring back some of their typical banter. Their words came as a relief, meaning that things between them didn’t necessarily change because of this... incident. 

Grif huffed out a breath, a snarky comment on the edge of his lips but it never came. He smiled slightly, eyes still shut. 

The maroon soldier knew that his friend was completely spent just from the way he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. Rather than shuffling towards the opposite end of the closet, Simmons lay on the cold floor besides Grif, attempting to be close without actually making any physical contact. He was tempted to reach around himself, pump away until he gasped for breath, but the urge wasn’t as prominent now. The Temple’s effects were probably starting to fade, allowing them to finally relax.

They sat in silence for about a minute, silence including heavy breathing of after-sex and slowing heart rates. Simmons could feel a little of Grif’s warmth radiating from his body, helping only slightly with the chill seeping into his bones. 

Then, to Simmons’ surprise, Grif rolled over a little, folding one of his arms over Simmons’ torso and tugging him closer. He squeaked a little, not expecting the sudden movement. The taller man shifted a little, trying to find comfort, and in the process, Grif slipped his other arm underneath Simmons’ body, looped close to his neck and hand pressed firmly against his back. The man was cocooned in strong arms and warmth, and he sighed in content. 

Simmons lay there, staring at the ceiling. Grif’s breathing slowed, but he could still feel it puffing warmly on his ear. They weren’t quite spooning since Simmons still lay on his back, but it almost seemed like it. So many people had told him in the past that if he was lucky enough to get with a girl, he would surely be the big spoon due to how tall and gangly he was, regardless whether the girl topped or not. This result did not reflect that at all, since if whatever this happened to be was compared to spooning, he was currently the little spoon. He honestly didn’t mind it though. All he knew was that he was so warm and his eyes had begun to droop. 

Grif’s breathing was deep and slow, but he suddenly moved again, placing a hand on Simmons’ head. His fingers gently dug into the soft tufts of orange, and Simmons couldn’t help but suck in a breath. For some reason, his entire body relaxed with the new position, savoring the slight tingles he felt. Grif simply rested his hand on him, still holding him close. 

Simmons wanted Grif to stroke through his hair, but maybe he would another time. Wait, another time? This never would happen again. Simmons’ thoughts suddenly tumbled through his head violently. The Temple was the reason why they did this. They did it because they needed to. What made him think that Grif would even be interested in doing something like this again, especially not without the assistance of the Temple?

He was suddenly troubled, wondering how they would face this later, but a deep breath and turning in Grif’s grasp helped distract him. Simmons’ back faced Grif’s chest now, allowing full contact between their bodies. He allowed himself to drift away, head swimming at the pace of Grif’s calm breathing. 

.oOo.

The two soldiers were startled awake from a heavy door being pushed open. Light cascaded into the room, and it took a moment for Simmons to remember where he was and who’s arms enveloped him in comforting warmth. Grif cried out in what sounded like groggy and irritable frustration. They both flung themselves towards opposite ends of the closet, as small as it was, and attempted to cup themselves, hiding what they had revealed to one another.

Simmons slowly stood while Grif rolled around on the floor, shielding himself from the turquoise woman before them. She wore all of her armor except for her helmet, allowing her red hair to show. The light silhouetted her, creating an ominous and intimidating image. Simmons felt such strong shame, as if he had been caught actually in the act rather than just cuddling.

Wait, had they been cuddling? Does that even count?

Carolina took a step forward, scanning the room with her piercing green eyes. 

“Looks like it’s just you two in here.” She said it so casually--were there other people that got stuck with more than one other person? Maybe Simmons should consider himself lucky with how things turned out. 

“Wow, Simmons, you look even worse than Wash. Really got down to business in here, did you two.” She smirked, eyes sparkling with mischief. Her taunting made Simmons’ heart rate spike again, panicked about how he could explain this away. That always worked, didn’t it? Then again, no one would believe that they just happened to get locked in the same closet in a back hallway as an unplanned event, even though that’s what happened. 

Then Carolina’s words finally sunk in, and he thought of all of his other friends being affected in the same horrifically potent way he had.

“What happened with Wash?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” She waved her hand dismissively, but her unfading smile said otherwise. 

“Is it Grif and Simmons in there?” a voice called from behind Carolina. Tucker peered over her shoulder, his long, yet suspiciously tousled hair dragging slightly on her shoulder. He wore a bright smile on his face. 

“I can’t believe you guys actually got locked in a closet together. How was it?” His words revealed how close he was to laughing. 

“Stop it! We’re not talking about this. Not now, not ever.” Grif had finally stood up, and despite being in his indecent and vulnerable state, his voice still remained strong. 

“How about you Simmons? Did Grif show you all of the great positions sex offers?” 

Rather than giving an answer, Simmons blushed a bright red to match his hair. The entire night--or day, however much time had passed--came flooding back to him. Grif’s hands holding his hips firmly, the sounds that slipped past Simmons’ lips. Tasting Grif on his tongue. Grif’s warmth filling him with trust. Grif… filling him. 

“Um, yeah, let’s not talk about this.” He spoke hesitantly, unsure how to avoid the topic. 

“Change the subject, we’re done here,” Grif added in an assertive manner, and Simmons couldn’t help but notice that Grif didn’t try to deny that anything happened. He didn’t realize until then, but Simmons probably would have been crushed if Grif insisted that nothing had happened between them. Not acknowledging the action and telling a blatant lie are two different things, and it proved to Simmons that Grif still wanted to be close friends like before. Of course, Simmons would have a hard time forgetting all of the small details of their time spent in that closet. In fact, he probably never would forget it, but he could play along with not talking about it in order to preserve their friendship.


End file.
